The Outlaws a Play! THE SEQUEL
by railise
Summary: Sequel to last year's "The Outlaws; a Play!"  The gang is staging another dinner theatre.  S3 AU crackiness.  Written for Robin Hood Drabblefest at LiveJournal.


**A/N:** This is a sequel to my previous fic, "The Outlaws; a Play!" which set up a few of the jokes for this fic, as well as some character development that took the S3 setting into AU territory (besides the obvious premise being AU, lol). The first fifteen segments were drabbles written for LiveJournal's rh_drabblefest community, with the final segment being longer, to tie up the story.

**The Jolly Allin of Dale**  
_Prompt: Allan; drunk_

All was peaceful in camp. The summer night settled gently around them, and the wine they had liberated from the castle stores completed the contented atmosphere.

"We should do something," Robin said suddenly.

Confusion rang in Much's voice. "Like what?"

"Dunno," Robin slurred after a moment, the wine clearly taking effect.

Silence descended amongst them once more.

"I've got it!" Allan declared, bursting into laughter at his notion.

"Oh, do you?" Kate sounded doubtful. He would show her.

"Another play!"

Their response was resounding. "Yes!" "Another play!" "Brilliant!"

Next morning, as Tuck began writing, Allan resolved never to drink again.

**The Fryar's Creativitie**  
_Prompt: Djaq; "a woman's work is never done."_

"Everyone enjoyed last year's play well enough," grumbled Tuck, taking back the parchment on which he had written an outline.

"It was novel last year," Djaq replied, unimpressed. "This year, they will expect more. You cannot simply repeat yourself."

"It's Robin Hood; he outwits the Sheriff, we fight, we escape. It's not repetition, it's fact."

"Have you no imagination?" Djaq exclaimed.

"Do you want to write it?" he retorted.

Reaching for the quill, she began, "Very well, I suppose-"

"No, no; I'll do it," he sighed. As she walked away, Tuck muttered, "You want different? Then, different, you shall have..."

**Lyttle John's a'Leggings**  
_Prompt: Little John; pants_

John surveyed camp, ensuring that nobody was within earshot. "Kate, about the costumes-"

"I can do them myself."

He blinked. "I know. It's just that-" another glance around; quieter now: "-could we wear tights again this year?"

She raised an amused eyebrow. "No trousers?"

He started to reply, when Allan came up. John quickly turned and pretended to be busy. "Hey, Kate. No leather this time, right?" Allan asked.

"You're an outlaw," she replied.

He grinned. "Good."

After he jogged away, she murmured, "Nobody said outlaws can't wear leather..." As John looked at her in surprise, she winked. "Or tights."

**The Bolde Seamstress and Robyn Hood**  
_Prompt: Kate/Robin; distraction_

Kate jotted down the measurement. "Almost done."

Nodding, Robin dropped his arms- then, with a yell, he jumped. "What are you _doing?_"

"Getting your inseam."

"...Don't you have it from last year?"

"You look taller; maybe you've grown. I need that number."

With another exclamation, Robin nearly levitated. "I don't think that's the right way to go about it!"

She glared. "Do you want your tights to fit, or not?"

"Tights again?" he groaned.

Just then, Tuck walked past, waving some parchments. "Scripts are ready!"

Robin hightailed it over to the director monk.

Kate harrumphed... and then smiled. "Oh, Allan..."

**The Cooke and the Huckle Duckle**  
_Prompt: Much; euphemisms_

Guy had not stopped grinning, and Robin was glaring at Tuck.

"It is certainly different..." Djaq allowed, neutrally.

"It's indecent," argued Will, wide-eyed.

"It's brilliant, is what it is," Allan countered, wiping away tears of laughter.

Tuck shrugged. "You didn't want a repeat of last year's play."

"You are not throwing me in the river," Robin stated.

"So... wait," Much cut in. "When you say 'Here is an huckle duckle, an inch above the buckle,' you don't mean... that is to say, you are not meaning... What's a 'huckle duckle'?"

Tuck just looked at him, pointedly. Much blinked.

"Oh."

**The Carpenter's Good-Nyght**  
_Prompt: Will; out of character_

Rehearsal for the fight scene was progressing well. Djaq surveyed the action, enjoying the role of director immensely. It was good that Tuck wrote the script, making himself a major player, thus opening this job for her to take.

Suddenly, everyone came to a halt.

"You've still got it wrong! It's step, jump, turn, _hit_." Allan demonstrated the moves; Will watched with growing impatience. "Got it?"

Will nodded. "I think so." The gleam in his eye made Djaq nervous.

Everyone resumed, and Will stepped, jumped, turned, and _hit_.

As Allan fell over, Will grinned. "Yeah, got it now."

**The Pyrate's Bath**  
_Prompt: Archer; bathing, or lack thereof_

The sight that awaited the outlaws when they arrived at the river for rehearsal was not one they expected.

"I'll show her 'clean'," Archer was muttering, rubbing soap over his arse. "Thinks she's too good for me, just 'cause she '_bathes_'..."

Suddenly seeming to sense that he was not alone, he swung around. Will's hand flew over Djaq's eyes; Kate let out a long breath. Either unaware of his impropriety or not caring, he grinned broadly. "My brothers! What are you doing here?"

Guy took a step forward before anyone could reply. "Where's. My. _Horse?_"

**Robyn Hode and Hys Family**  
_Prompt: Archer/Guy/Robin; family traits_

"I cannot believe we're working him into the play," Guy muttered.

"But he has special weapons, from _the Orient,_" Robin replied sarcastically.

Guy was still fuming from learning that his horse had been lost at cards, and Robin was not fond of how readily Archer had endeared himself to the gang. Even now, Kate was giggling as she returned from measuring Archer for his costume.

He followed, beaming as he joined his brothers. Clapping a hand on a shoulder of each, he said, "Apparently, we three have _loads_ in common!

"What's wrong?" he called, as they stormed away.

**Lyttle John and the Red Tights**  
_Prompt: Little John; forbidden love_

Allan's gait was decidedly odd as he joined the others. "You said no leather!"

"No, I said you were an outlaw." Kate grinned smugly. "My seams have improved, don't you think?"

Allan and Robin exchanged a pained glance. "They have," Allan admitted, as Robin surreptitiously adjusted those seams. Nearby, Guy began to sweat, struggling to hold still.

"They're... unusual," Archer winced.

John leaned against the wall with a blissful smile. Cotton was a wonderful thing, never had he been so comfortable. Too bad red did not blend into the forest.

He wondered if Kate had green dye...

**An Ambuscade of Robin Hoode**  
_Prompt: Guy/Robin; "of course you know, this means WAR!"_

"You're sure this will work?"

"Of course, it will," Robin assured Guy. The hole they had dug was well hidden by a thin layer of sticks and leaves, barely discernible on the forest floor. Hearing whistling, he crouched.

Guy watched in anticipation as Archer drew nearer.

Just then, Kate came tearing down the path. Allan was hot on her heels, hollering, "You lying, troublesome wen-_!_"

He cut off when they both collided with Archer, knocking him aside... and rolling straight into the trap.

"What's that hole doing there?" Archer wondered, going to help them.

Robin and Guy scowled.

**Allin A Dale's Chase**  
_Prompt: Allan/Much; Out of my kitchen!_

Much had been saving the pilfered spice chest for a special occasion; what was more special than dinner theatre? A pinch of this, a little of that-

Suddenly, Kate skidded in. "Hide me!" she hissed, diving for the low shelf behind him.

Blinking, Much had no time to react before Allan followed, his stride hampered, yet determined. "Where is she?" He spotted Kate, who shrieked, scampering away while he lunged after her.

In their scuffle, they knocked the chest off the counter. They froze, but Much dove, barely saving it.

Glaring, he pointed at the doorway. "Out of my kitchen!"

**The Matin-Prop of Friar Tuck**  
_Prompt: any; mole_

John's opinion was succinct. "No."

Will recovered from his shock enough to speak. "Like I said: indecent."

"How is that staying on?" Allan asked curiously. "It must weigh a ton; it's huge."

Archer tore his eyes away from it to glance at Allan. "A special belt."

Tuck was surprised. "How did you know?" Archer merely grinned.

Guy raised an eyebrow at Djaq. "You're the director; do something."

"It goes with the jest," she admitted, to Tuck's delight and the others' horror. As she turned to leave, she added, "The mole is a bit much, however."

**The Saracen's Delighte**  
_Prompt: Djaq/Will; now what?_

Djaq's half-vest might seem an odd fashion choice, but as it served its purpose, once more protecting her back from the roughness of tree bark, she would have appreciated it- were she thinking at all just then.

What the bark did not do, an exclamation from a nearby treetop did, claiming both her attention and Will's. "_FIRE!_" Kate shrieked.

Will stepped quickly away, and they ran over, glancing quizzically up at Kate.

"Don't tell Allan I'm here," she hissed. "Just GO!"

As they took off where she indicated, Djaq sighed. Next year, Tuck could direct.

**Alarming the Archer**  
_Prompt: Guy; arson_

The flaming arrows had seemed a brilliant idea.

Guy would shoot a few near Archer, disconcerting the upstart, and proving that Robin was not the only one who could do those tricks, at the same time. Two birds- well, two brothers, and all that.

It might have gone better, had Archer not been standing by the costume chest.

By the time Djaq and Will arrived, the chest and its contents were in smouldering ruin. On the plus side, Archer was definitely disconcerted.

"What happened?" Djaq demanded.

As Robin ran up, bow in hand as always, Guy had another brilliant idea.

**Settinge the Stage**  
_Prompt: The Outlaws; a Play!_

"I did not envision this as a Greek comedy," Tuck grumbled, adjusting his bedsheet.

"More of a tragedy, if you ask me," Allan remarked under his breath- though not quite under-his-breath enough; Tuck glared.

Kate's jaw set. "The play's _tomorrow_. I worked with what I had; if you don't like it, go naked."

"No!" Robin and Guy exclaimed simultaneously, as Archer reached for the knot on his sheet. Suddenly, they both looked thoughtful...

Off to the side, John had his back turned, sorrow in his gaze as he eyed the place where he had buried the ashes which seemed the most likely candidates for remnants of red cotton.

"I find it quite comfortable," Much announced. "Rather freeing, in fact."

"Much..." began Will. "You _are_ wearing braes under it, right?"

There was a heavy pause. "Of course!" Much finally declared, followed by a chorus of, "Yeah!" "Me, too!" and, "Who wouldn't?" (They all ignored when Archer asked, "What are 'braes'?")

Djaq rubbed her temples. "Despite the... wardrobe malfunction, I believe we will be putting on a decent show tomorrow."

"And serving a good meal," added Much.

She smiled. "Of course."

**An****Orygynale Storie**

The crowd which gathered alongside the Trent was abuzz with anticipation. Most of the guests had been at last year's play, and those who had not, had heard all about it. Only a handful of faces were missing, either from the passage of time or lack thereof (it was strongly suggested that children stay home from this year's performance), illness, other obligations... or, because a few people recalled the after affects of the makeshift kabob sticks, and did not feel like sleeping the next two days away.

Instead of a stage, benches were arranged with enough space between them and the river for most of the action to take place. To one side, a curtained-off area acted as backstage, giving the players a place to prepare. Not that there was all that much to prepare; once they were in their bedsheets and Tuck had donned his prop, most of them were set. That prop had been saved from the conflagration because he stored it under his mattress, distrusting Allan's curiosity, Archer's knowledge, and the others' censure.

Much was just finishing cooking the meal over a large fire pit when the first guests began filtering in and, with help from Will and John, passed it and cups of ale out once all of the audience members had arrived. When the three rejoined the others, Tuck pressed a small slip of parchment into John's hand.

"Djaq asked that I write a quick introduction to get things started; would you mind going out to read this?"

With a shrug and a nod, John stepped out from behind the curtain. The pre-show chatter died down and the audience's attention was turned to him; he looked down at the slip.

"_Here beginnethe the Playe__  
__of Robyn Hoode, verye__  
__proper to be played-_"

He broke off, shooting a look of utter disbelief in the direction of the curtain. With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to the audience. "Enjoy the show," he said to them, and then went backstage. Cornering Tuck, he held up the parchment. "'Proper'?" he demanded.

"You did not finish it," Tuck reprimanded him.

With an unamused expression, John sighed and read the rest of it. "'...verye proper to be played in Maye Games.' May Games?"

"Precisely," said Tuck cheerfully.

John was baffled. "It's September."

"That is beside the point," the playwright informed him. "And at any rate, you're on."

Realizing the other outlaw players were filing out, John hurried to follow.

Once they were all in place, Robin delivered his opening lines, still bewildered about Tuck's insistence that the gang be referred to as "merry men." Most of them had argued it; when they went as a group to take it up with Djaq, she had adjusted her vest, yelled at them to give her a moment's privacy (belatedly including "and Will" as a recipient of said privacy, while Will refused to make eye contact with any of them), and then stormed off.

So, the line remained as it was, and Robin would give it his best go. As he did, he hoped that Tuck was wrong, and that the term would not catch on.

"_Now stand ye forth my mery men all,__  
__And harke what I shall say;__  
__Of an adventure I shal you tell,__  
__The which befell this other day.__  
__As I went by the hygh way,__  
__With a stoute frere I met..._"

He was also not overly fond of the idea that Tuck had robbed him, but he had to admit that it was a decent setup for the rest of the action.

Meanwhile, John was wondering what wrong he had done Tuck to make the man pen lines specifically for him, while the rest of the gang were just background players. At least, it was a short speech, and he delivered it well, and then led those playing Robin's gang backstage so that Tuck and his men could come on.

If John, Allan, and Much were less than impressed at being referred to as "mery men," it was with more than a little frustration that Guy and Will were called "dogges." They had tried to get Archer in on a protest, but he had merely brushed it off, noting that he had been called worse. Guy had mentally marked yet another strike against his half-brother, and anticipated the plan he and Robin had in store.

Still, it was more than likely that nobody would even notice the words leaving Tuck's mouth, considering what was strapped just below his waist. While Will felt supremely justified by the shocked faces of a few audience members, Tuck felt even more justified by the mirth on the faces of the rest. Archer mostly wished that he could have one of his own, but Tuck had informed him that there was such a thing as too much bawd.

Archer disagreed, but was overruled.

As for Guy, he mostly just wished that Tuck would stand still whilst wearing the damned thing, because he was sick of dodging it every time the monk turned his way. He breathed an inward sigh of relief when Tuck's monologue wound up, as the "friar" vowed to find Robin.

"_But if that I be better man than he,__  
__By my truth my knave shall he be-_"

"I'll be your knave, luvvie!" called a female voice from the benches, resulting in laughter and a few whistles.

The group exited the stage area, and Robin and Tuck came on, Robin carefully holding Tuck by the throat, trying to dodge the prop as they moved into the stage area. When they reached their mark, Robin began to deliver his line: "_Yelde the, fryer, in thy long cote-_" Then, considering everyone's current garb, he amended with a quick grin,"_-thy long_ sheet."

They exchanged a series of insults (Robin's least favorite being the line about delousing; the gang had enough difficulty getting the villagers to believe that they did, indeed, wash regularly, without rumors like that getting started), and finally the fight was about to begin. Robin summoned his merry men, Tuck summoned his dogs, and the part they had all been waiting for commenced.

For awhile, they stuck to the choreography they had practiced, to cheers and applause from the crowd. Archer was quite looking forward to the opportunity to show off some of the fighting styles he had picked up in the Orient. It was a little tricky whilst wearing a bedsheet, but if Tuck could walk around in his prop, Archer figured a quick flash here and there would not be an issue. In fact, he was fairly entertained by the notion.

He had just knocked Allan back in preparation for a nice leap, when he heard Robin call, "Now!" He wanted to look and see what his brother was up to, but he had already begun the jump, and momentum carried him into it.

"No!" he heard Guy and Robin exclaim simultaneously, and saw them dive for him as he began his landing.

Suddenly, they were swooped into the air by their ankles, having stepped into the rope trap that they had arranged for Archer. Their makeshift costumes flew up as they did, startling just about everyone (and demonstrating that the concept of braes had not caught on amongst the outlaws, after all). The play came to a screeching halt as the gang stared up in astonishment, and it even took Allan- and the villagers- a moment to notice that the knot on his own sheet had given way.

Surprise gave way to cat calls and whoops, and Allan quickly fixed his apparel as Much and Will hurried over to the base of the tree the rope was tied to, in order to let the strung-up pair down. Once Robin and Guy were on their feet again, rather red-faced but otherwise unharmed, they went to re-join the performance. A boisterous round of applause halted their movement, and they exchanged a resigned glance before bowing.

With that done, the fight resumed; when it was done, Robin asked Tuck to join him, a speech which included offering him a woman*. Djaq had offered to injure anyone who suggested that she take part, so Kate was in. The simple costume she had made for herself was lost with the others in the fire; but what had not occurred to anyone else before she came out for her cue, was that she had not put on a sheet like the rest of them before the show.

When she sashayed onstage, wearing an elaborately embroidered blouse, bodice, and skirt, there was definite confusion amongst the rest of the cast, but they managed to remain in character. The play ended in a dance, and Djaq had suggested one of the popular ones that was well-known to the villagers, so that the audience could join in. This was met with raucous approval, and a few musicians whom had been asked to play struck up a spirited song as everyone began to dance.

And, if some steps were missed when an outlaw grabbed for an errant bedsheet, well, nobody minded.

As Kate and Allan came face to face, he indicated her costume and asked, "What's with the getup? I thought you didn't have time to make new costumes."

She grinned saucily at him. "Right. I didn't have time to make new costumes for any of you; I was too busy making this one for myself."

"Couldn't you have made a simpler dress, and then had time to make something for the rest of us?"

She shrugged. "I could've. But, in those sheets," she said, starting to giggle, "you all look so noble, and handsome, and rugged, and-" Breaking off with a shriek as he lunged for her, there was a brief disruption amongst the dancers as she barreled through them all and headed for the woods, Allan hot on her heels.

Little John sighed as he watched the twom across the clearing. He was currently partnered with Matilda, who had heard about the performance last year, and sneaked back into Nottinghamshire specifically for this year's play. She had also noticed the disruption, and laughed. "If that keeps up, you might be in need of my services."

John looked at her in surprise. "Those two? Not a chance; one would kill the other before it got to that."

"If you say so," she replied, in a tone that clearly conveyed disagreement.

"You don't believe me?"

Her opinion was written all over her face.

He shook his head, and then held out a hand. "Come on; you'll see."

"Why, John Little, are you asking me to accompany you into the greenwood?" Matilda teased, taking his hand.

Grinning, he leaned over and asked in a low tone, "And if I am?"

"Be careful," she warned. "I may say yes."

With a shrug, he led her toward the forest. "I like to live dangerously."

Nearby, Archer ran up to Robin, panic on his face. "Robin, you have to help me."

"What's wrong?"

Tugging futilely at the knot on his sheet, Archer hissed, "There are these two women, twins, waiting in the forest-"

Robin interrupted. "The Tanner sisters?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Archer. "That's them. Anyway, they're waiting-"

"That's right," Robin agreed. "They are known for being virtuous."

Archer shook his head. "No, no, no; that's not it. They are about to be very _un_virtuous, their wait over, as soon as I arrive; but, my sheet! It's stuck to those braes things Guy suggested I get, and I cannot get any of it off."

Smiling and nodding, Robin said, "I know."

As Archer stared at him in confusion, Guy joined them, an equally wicked smile curving his lips. "Trouble, baby brother?"

"You- you... But, why?" Archer exclaimed.

It was their turn to be amazed. "You cannot be serious," Guy muttered.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "The next time somebody comes to rescue you from a dungeon, do not sell them out."

"And steal their horse."

"And steal their gang."

"And lose their stolen horse at the gaming table."

Archer gaped at them. "But- what about the Tanner sisters?"

"There are two of them, are there not?" Guy asked.

"Yes...?"

Guy looked at Robin. "There are two of us."

"So there are," Robin agreed, as if the notion was a fascinating one.

Archer stared after them in dismay, as they strolled back the way he had come.

In front of him, Hannah, the Locksley maid, exited the dance in laughter. "Why do you look so sad?" she asked him. "Drafty bedsheet?"

"Stuck bedsheet," he grumbled. "Thanks to two brothers who hold absurd grudges."

She eyed the fabric and, with a wink, said "I'm very good with knots."

"Are you, now?" he asked, his mouth kicking up into a trademark grin.

At a table off to the side of the benches, Much was beginning to put out cakes and biscuits he had baked a day earlier, along with a few casks of wine the gang had liberated from the castle stores between rehearsal sessions. He was just setting out the last plate of treats, when a voice murmured next to his ear, "I noticed that you did not lose your bedsheet. How disappointing."

Much whirled around, finding himself gazing down at a face he had been longing to see again, but had not dared to seek out yet. "Eve! What are you doing here?"

She blinked, and then airily replied, "I heard that Robin was in a play, so I came to see him."

His euphoria plummeting, Much said, "Oh."

Eve closed her eyes and sighed, beginning to smile. "Oh, Much. Of course, that's not it."

"It's not," he repeated uncertainly.

"I came to see _you,_" she stated firmly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It will always be for you."

Grinning, Much was suddenly far happier than he had been in ages. In _ever_, actually. And he began to tell her that, but then, she was kissing him. She stopped long enough to murmur, "Just, never make me wait that long again, understood?"

"That's a deal," he agreed.

Walking him backward into the forest, she said, "Now, about that bedsheet of yours..."

He was starting to smile, but movement behind her caught his attention. A familiar, purple half-vest was blowing along the ground, out from behind a stand of trees. His eyes wide, he redirected Eve's steps toward another part of the woods. "I think this bedsheet of mine would prefer to be over this way. _Far_ over this way."

The compliments on Tuck's prop had been many. Kate's mother, Rebecca, finally walked up to him. "That's ambitious," she commented, and he had to chuckle. Then, she loudly asked, "Based on life, is it?"

Tuck suddenly realized that she smelled strongly of the pilfered wine. "Erm..." There was no good way to answer that. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"The mole's a nice touch."

"I thought so," he said cautiously.

"Wanna see my mole?"

"I'm a monk, Rebecca, although I thank you for the offer."

She eyed him. "Seems to me you're more outlaw than preacher."

He could not argue that.

It might have been September, but the play and subsequent festivities had instilled the spirit of May into the crowd, and many found themselves in the greenwood that night.

As the stars shone down on Sherwood, the outlaws had once more given a successful respite to the people of the shire.

-  
*When the scripts were passed out, Guy had asked Tuck what the bit with the woman was all about, especially paired with the impressive prop, inquiring about the vows he had taken as a monk. Tuck informed him that it was a comment on the debauchery of today's clergy. Guy muttered something about commenting on the debauchery of today's playwrights, as he stalked off.


End file.
